Oh Sruli, last we left you, in what seemed to be, all alone in that Reykjavik! You made a mere mention of a daring engagement ring for your sweet. And here we see something neat. Is it? Could it be? The one for your honeybee?

As awesome as it is, it is 100% Sruli Recht. Three screwtop diamonds: black, yellow, and white. And with it this quite honest and humbling poem beside:

My love it came, my love it went…

So I plied and so I played
with brevity and breadth, I gauged with breath
and depth
and mined and moulded, and with my arms I then held it.
Three stones.

A big black rock. An average to large white rock. And a smaller yellow rock… The economy of desire was measurable but not immutable

And with all that was left, bent gold around each cleft,
was shaped band and claws from a propeller lent.
Till threaded and golden gleamed this ring thrice revolving.
[Threaded, that is, to keep her mindful of the stone and of me.]
boxed and placed and presented and requested…

“..?”

So now, she chooses which stone to wear – one for work and one for stares. One for evenings and one for mournings. One for what ever she cares.
And now I too play this game of choice… to add another to the compliment of raw precious diamonds; rough to remind my nights before her, and rare as the days now empty.